


loving like an existentialist

by scryder



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Adult Content, Alien Biology, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Past Peebee / Ryder, Interspecies Awkwardness, Ryder is a Badass, Sexual Tension, not so slow burn, slightly canon divergent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-17 05:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18958384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scryder/pseuds/scryder
Summary: She was curious. She was different. She was intoxicating.Jaal did not know humans – their tells, their rituals, their history. But the ache within his chest and the turn of his stomach, they were familiar things; and somehow, so was the feeling of her lips upon his.He had never known anything better.





	1. uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah shit here we go again 
> 
> I thought it was weird how cool the Angara were with aliens despite the Kett ingame, so I made them a little less cool with it.  
> Also! Pathfinder who is actually good at being a Pathfinder who? My HC for this Ryder is that Alec had always kind of prepared her for a position like this (even it wasn't intended to go to her) + that she isn't quite so out of her depth as canon 
> 
> Enjoy x

He was afraid.

An _intruder_ , on Aya. They were hidden, protected by the surrounding scourge; this was the only place the Angara were safe from the Kett, and somehow, these aliens had _breached_ their haven, landed on Angaran soil and tainted it with their foreignness. Aya was for them – it was their safety.  
  
No longer.  
  
It made Jaal furious.  
  
Tension was heavy in the air, hanging upon Aya as if the planet itself held its breath; if these newcomers were, indeed, not the friendly sort, it threatened to doom the Angara. The Kett presence in Heleus grew daily, thousands upon thousands of his own slaughtered or taken with each week that passed. They could not withstand another alien threat, and they knew it – the anxiety was palpable. For the first time in Jaal’s memory, the tavetaan was silent.  
  
Somehow, that silence was the loudest thing he had ever heard. It made him ache for his people, and for all they had gone through. For all they would continue to go though, and for all they had to fear.  
  
Wherever the Angara moved, tragedy always seemed to follow in their wake, clawing at their ankles. Their homeworld had grown unpredictable – still beautiful, but dangerous, and inhospitable – and their efforts to repel the Kett on Voeld grew increasingly fruitless. His people were desperately fighting a battle they had no hope of winning.  
  
And that was _only_ the Kett.  
  
Paraan Shie was – despite her unwavering diplomacy – apprehensive. Jaal could tell from her posture, and the way her bioelectricity hung around her, pulsing with tangible anxiety. She greeted him with a smile.  
  
“Jaal. I –”  
  
“Evfra saw the ship come in. He sent me to see what was going on.”  
  
He had not intended to snap, but his nerves were frayed. The thing at the bottom of the platform turned its attention from the ambassador to him, remarkably still save for the shift of its eyes as he descended the stairs to approach.  
  
“She’s a human, from the Milky Way. A Pathfinder.”  
  
_Human._ He had heard that name, snarled by Evfra in regards to their port on Kadara, snatched by criminals and marauders. That they had found their way to Aya, their sanctuary, somehow set his blood on fire and made it run cold simultaneously. They were thieves, they were scavvers, they were…  
  
_Remarkably small_ .  
  
This Pathfinder stood barely taller than an Angaran child, with half its width. Its shoulders were narrow, and its hips were round, connected to a pair of single-jointed, straight legs. It lacked any natural armor, from the looks of it; it wore a soft suit of leathery material, and through it, Jaal could see that this thing was all _round_ , all curve – it had no edges.  
  
It was not shaped like a killer. An Angara could snap it with his own two arms.  
  
He continued upon it – _it_ , not _she_ – until he stood directly before it, looming, glaring daggers down into this intruder. He was met with no fear; simply a pair of dark, peculiar coloured eyes trained on his with the same intensity.  
  
A jagged scar ran from the Pathfinder’s jaw, down the side of its throat and into the neck of its suit. Another, this one thinner, scrawled a hasty line above its brow, across its temple and into its cowl. If it could be referred to as such, appearing as many small, pale strands, as opposed to a crown of thick bands of flesh.  
  
This creature knew violence. It knew war.  
  
“Aya is hidden. _Protected_ ,” he spat through grit teeth. “What do you want?”  
  
The human had to crane its neck to meet his gaze, but there was no intimidation evident on its features. It had no bioelectricity – or, at least, none that Jaal could sense. The air around it pulsated with a strange, warping kind of energy that set his teeth on edge, but it was no kind of electricity; it was something heavier. Contained, but threatening to spill.         
  
And then it spoke.  
  
“Our ship was damaged by the Scourge,” it said, still as ever. There was a clearly feminine inflection to its voice, softer than he had expected, and warped by a strange accent. “We were driven through it by the Kett. We had intended first contact to go much different; for that, you have my apologies.”    
  
There was no snarl to the Pathfinder’s words, nor any heat. Simply a kind of firmness, ingrained into its very being – as if it had been born with it. It – _she_ – almost possessed a sort of charisma; not a sort that made one laugh, or even smile, but a sort that made one listen.  
  
Her mention of the Kett gave him pause. They had driven them into the Scourge, damaged their ship, and forced their emergency landing; to Jaal, that suggested no affiliation. His anxieties still nagged at him – after all, this was an unfamiliar alien from galaxies away, invading the most secret and treasured sanctuary of his people – but they had subsided somewhat.  
  
“The Kett are no friends of the Angara,” he offered in response, allowing his tone to lighten somewhat. He even offered her the ghost of a smile. “Nor are they any friends of yours, if what you say is true.”  
  
The alien nodded, but did not return his sentiment. Jaal found himself considering her features – so very different from the Angara, yet so distantly, slightly reminiscent. Where his people were bright, skin in hues of green, pink, purple, and blue, she was earthen. Bronzed, olive skin, and eyes of a deeper, earthier brown – unlike the Angara, her cowl differed in colour from the rest of her. It was light; the colour of sand.  
  
The anatomy of her, however, was not so entirely unfamiliar. Two arms, two hands (albeit with a few too many fingers, Jaal noticed), two strange, single jointed legs, and relatively similar facial construction. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Profound how such things were so universal.  
  
These were traits the Kett shared too; that sobered him somewhat.    
  
“I’ll inform Evfra. He will be waiting for you in his office at Resistance Headquarters. I’ll meet you there.”

 

* * *

 

  
And like that, the Tempest housed another. Jaal had joined them with little hesitation, to even his own surprise; he had been so wary, was _still_ so wary. But the Pathfinder – Ryder, her name was – had made a promise to Evfra. A promise of aid where the Angara desperately needed it.  
  
Her crew seemed less than thrilled to have him aboard, but that hardly fazed him. He was an alien to them, just as they were to him. Jaal was certainly outnumbered, but he found that he was not alone in that respect.  
  
There was a tall, lanky alien, no shorter than him and made of sharp, hard angles, where Ryder and her _human_ counterparts were smaller, softer. The tall alien, he thought, was a woman? There was a feminine inflection to her voice, but physically, she was – to him, at least – entirely androgynous. That she came from the same place as the Pathfinder set him aback; they were so entirely different, and even further unlike the both of them was the hulking _brute_ made of spikes and hard shell and _anger_ .  
  
There were two other crew members, women shaped not unlike Ryder, but different also. Blue skinned, each of them possessed different markings, with cowls more akin to his own than whatever the human crew possessed. One, he understood, was a doctor. The other? He had no clue.  
  
A troublemaker, if her rushed, indignant words were any indication.  
  
Jaal kept silent, simply observing the mechanics of this motley crew from where he sat.  
  
Ryder and the other human woman – Cora, if he had heard correctly – seemed to be almost at odds. That Ryder was the leader seemed undisputed; her word was final, and her tone made that deafeningly clear. However, there seemed to be an unspoken feud between the two. Jaal didn’t miss the dubious look Cora gave Ryder as she spoke, nor the extra firmness in Ryder’s voice when she addressed her.  
  
A battle for leadership, perhaps?  
  
Jaal was curious. Out of all the crew, Ryder seemed to be amongst the youngest. And yet, she somehow held their highest position of authority; the shots were undoubtedly called by her, and it was she who stepped forward and bravely made first contact.  
  
It was her Jaal had wanted to shoot – he had yet to decide if that sentiment had left him.  
  
“Do the translators not work?”  
  
His thoughts were broken by the tall, angled alien addressing him; in fact, it was the first time during this conversation _about him_ at which he had actually been spoken to, to his knowledge. Jaal couldn’t help but frown.  
  
“They work.”  
  
“ _Enough_ ,” barked Ryder, to their collective surprise. The whole crew – Jaal, shamefully, included – straightened. “I will not stand here and listen to my crew bicker like _children_ . Jaal has offered us his help. We are going to take it.”  
  
There was a moment of silence, as if they were scrambling for words. There was a scowl on her face, drawing a line down the center her brow; he had yet to see her anything but ‘firm’ and ‘firmer’. Jaal wondered if she was capable of smiling.  
  
Cora straightened, and scowled. “Ryder, we followed our best lead here, and now we don’t even have that.”  
  
A heavy sigh left the Pathfinder, but she mirrored Cora’s posture regardless. She seemed tired, Jaal thought. And fed up.  
  
“Jaal is going to help us access the vault on Aya,” said Ryder, levelling the other woman with a look.  
  
Vetra spoke up. “How do we do that when we’re leaving the planet it’s on?”  
  
The Pathfinder said nothing, but shifted her gaze to him. That same question was in her expression, an inquisitive brow quirked upwards and lips set in a line. She had a shapely face by human standards, he thought – full lips, and high, proud cheekbones. A straight nose. Delicate, when compared to Cora’s severity; even if it was constantly schooled into utter firmness.  
  
“Yeah,” said another crew member, batting his hand down onto the table; a man with dark skin and a cowl of different in texture and colour to his other human counterparts. “I mean, there’s an Angara right here. Let’s hear from the new guy.”  
  
Jaal let out a heavy breath, and stood. “One day, about eighty years ago, the Archon and the Kett arrived in Heleus. And that is where the horror began.”  
  
“They declared war?”  
  
He shook his head. “Nothing so easy to define. Or fight.”  
  
Ryder took a step towards him, and turned her attention out toward the rest of her crew. She was startlingly professional; Jaal wondered if human military was more severe than that of the Angara. It would explain her mannerisms. Or, perhaps, that staunchness was specific to Ryder. To be young, and thrust into a position of power – how, he thought, could that affect somebody?  
  
If she even _was_ thrust into it. He knew very little about her; it made him vaguely uncomfortable.  
  
“The Angara are taken by the Kett. Thousands of their people are taken, and never seen again,” said Ryder, a solemn edge to her voice. “When our own colonists disappeared to the Collectors, humanity did everything in our power to stop it. We _need_ to help them.”  
  
Liam and Cora cast their eyes down, and Jaal’s interest piqued. A touchy subject, apparently; he knew somewhat about the struggles of the Hyperion and the Nexus, but that was as far into their history he had delved. He wondered if humanity had suffered a tragedy not unlike that of the Angara, if that was what made Ryder so sympathetic to their cause.  
  
The brute grunted, voice gritty and rough. “I’ll kill Kett all day, but that’s no plan.”  
  
“I agree,” said the blue woman. “We need to get into that vault, Ryder.”    
  
The Pathfinder eyed her down; she wasn’t having it. “And we will do so, on the _Angara’s terms_. We have a plan.”  
  
Her gaze shifted to him, eyebrows raised in an indication that he was to explain. She was remarkably good at that; communicating without words – a very respectable trait. Good in a leader.  
  
“The Resistance is stretched thin. At our briefing this morning, I was tasked with travelling to two of our worlds; you will accompany me.”  
  
The human man spoke up once more. “Because…?”  
  
“ _Because_ ,” articulated Jaal, “Evfra will see you as trustworthy. You want that.”  
  
Ryder proceeded to explain the two worlds – Havarl, and Voeld – to her crew. The blue woman remained indignant, and Cora continued her close scrutiny of the Pathfinder; the rest of the team, however, seemed to be in somewhat unified agreement, Vetra and the brute more reserved in their concurrence but on board nonetheless. The man Ryder addressed as ‘ _Liam_ ’ seemed to share her empathy, if even more enthusiastically; he was the first of her crew to actually _smile_ at him, a wide grin of white, straight teeth.  
  
The human smile was an attractive thing. He found himself quite in favor of it.  
  
Seeing the Pathfinder address her own people took him aback – he was familiar with authority, working as close to Evfra as he did, but this was somehow different. Ryder was by no means unkind (as Evfra sometimes could be), but she certainly accepted no defiance. She was stoic, unfailingly professional, and profoundly logical in her analysis; a leader by all means, as if leadership had been bred into her, as if it ran through her blood. Perhaps it did.  
  
She was a curiosity. Jaal knew she was young, but just _how young_ was extremely hard to gauge. Her skin was unlined – unlike Cora’s, and even Liam’s, to an extent – and her eyes were bright with youth, but her demeanor reflected anything but youngness. Jaal wondered if perhaps she would different, under other circumstances; after all, first contact was a serious matter.  
  
“Dismissed.”  
  
Jaal had tuned out completely. The rest of the crew dispersed quickly, leaving just himself and Ryder on the conference platform; she looked tired. Void of company, he watched her shoulders sag somewhat, barely perceivable but enough for him to notice. Enough to make him wonder some more.  
  
“Ryder, may I ask you some questions? If you don’t mind.”  
  
She swivelled to face him and leant back against the table. Her posture was more conversational; this was not a matter of politics, but one of familiarity. Jaal liked that.  
  
In this proximity, he could feel the same thrum of energy radiating off her he had felt on Aya. He hadn’t felt it from Vetra or Drack, and Cora and Peebee gave of similar waves, but theirs felt different, somehow. Cora’s was barely perceivable at all, kept close and measured. Peebee’s, on the other hand, felt poorly retained – it would flare with her indignancy, and felt as though it warped around her, always moving and whirling.  
  
Ryder’s was stranger still. It was contained, static in the air around her, but Jaal could _feel_ it. It was heavy, and not quite electric, but alive in the same way. He wondered if his own bioelectricity made him sensitive to their energy, or whether her entire crew could feel the field suspended around her.    
  
_What was it for_?  
  
“Of course. What’s on your mind?”  
  
Jaal shifted. _Where should he start_? “There are many aliens upon this ship, all different to one another. Do you all come from the same place?”  
  
“Well, the same galaxy, sure,” said Ryder, shrugging. “But different systems. My people come from the Sol System, from a planet named Earth.”  
  
His nose crinkled. “Your planet is named _Dirt_?”  
  
Ryder chuckled, and it _jarred_ him. It was a light, melodic sound, so unlike her firm impersonal tone from earlier. It sent the corners of her lips tilting upwards, into a not-quite-there smile. Jaal found he appreciated it, very much so.  
  
“I suppose you could say that, couldn’t you? I fear humanity lacks in creativity.”  
  
“Evidently.”  
  
Perhaps she was not so stoic as he first thought. Admittedly, she seemed to operate in halves; leant back, but arms still crossed before her, a barrier between them – half comfortable. A small chuckle, and the ghost of a smile. A half joke. It was all very curious to him.  
  
“Anyway,” she said, smoothing down the front of her undersuit as she stood. “I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll check in with you later – in the meantime, make yourself comfortable.”  
  
He made a mental note to one day ask her about the ‘Collectors’ she had mentioned earlier. And her energy field. Maybe when he had earned her trust, and vice versa. Instead, he simply offered her a smile, and nodded. He could see his own reflection in the brown of her eyes.  
  
_Earthen eyes._  
  
“I will make sure to do so, Pathfinder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave some love (or non-love) in the comments <3


	2. familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaal learns Ryder's name, and also that he really, really likes being close to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not patient enough for a slow burn so let's kick this shit right off
> 
> Ryder has a name! And it isn't Sara! I really like the symbolism of Anastasia = Resurrection, which will for sure come into play a little later on when I make it sad up in here  
> For now, have a little bit of grief/mourning and a tiny bit of fluff, much more to come in the future x

She _hated_ Voeld.  
  
It was a crypt, a ghost of what once was; of what could be. When they had surveyed the planets, Voeld – or  Habitat 6 – had been a resource rich world of H20 oceans and breathable air, and vast urban centers and settlements, according to Jaal. There were, allegedly, still remnants of ancient cities, entombed deep in ice.  
  
Poor Jaal. The sight of ‘exaltation’ had made Ryder sick – hands shaking and stomach turning, eyes squeezed shut in an effort to dispel the nausea –  but it had _broken his heart_ . She had put her hand on his shoulder as he wept over the body of his former kin, had knelt down beside him and provided a firm, comforting hand. But even more disconcerting than his anguish was his silence.  
  
She thought that maybe he hated Voeld too.  
  
At least the Moshae was safe. The only look she cared to throw her way was one of pure venom, seething that Ryder hadn’t allowed the destruction of the Kett facility; understandable enough, she supposed. She hoped that when given time to consider, the Moshae would see the good in her intentions, and hopefully not realise that they were largely selfish.  
  
Jaal had experienced so much _loss_ that day. She couldn’t bear to cause him any more.  
  
The shuttle ride back had been upsetting, not because of anything said, but the lack thereof. Even Liam was too shell-shocked to speak, just staring out into the whirling colours of Voeld’s sky. Jaal didn’t seem to be seeing anything, eyes completely glazed over and expression – for the first time she had ever seen it – just ... blank.    
  
His demeanor hadn’t changed. The Moshae –  after expressing her disapprovement in regards to her actions –  had taken to rest in the medbay. Liam sought comfort in togetherness, lingering around Gill and Cora and Vetra until they grew tired of him; they knew about what had happened, but they hadn’t _seen_ it. Ryder knew it was burned into his retinas just as it was into hers.  
  
Jaal simply disappeared into his room and locked the door. Comfort in solitude.  
  
She found her own comfort in a too-hot shower that turned her skin red raw and made her scalp hurt, and it was perfect. A reminder that heat existed, and so did her humanity; it was easy to question, after seeing something like that.  
  
She found herself growing fond of the Angara as a people, and of Jaal himself, and their struggles made her heart ache.  
  
Ryder looked at herself in the mirror. She was the most uncomfortable with herself like this, freshly showered and free of the grit, of the blood, of the _Pathfinder_ . It was just _her_ , high flashes of colour across her cheeks from the heat, a mottley, purple bruise blossoming on her jawbone, making the white of her jagged scar starker within it.  
  
She needed a haircut. Part of her wanted to cut it all off, to have a short, manageable style befitting of her military status. But the other, bigger part of her refused to part with it – her hair was all she had left of her mother. All her mother had given to her.  
  
The rest of her was Alec. That hurt in a different way.  
  
Alexander was Alec too. Her brother had always been their father’s _Golden Boy_ , even when he decided that he would rather pursue science than military. It was hard, sometimes, to fathom how much she missed him. Alexander had been her second half for almost her whole life. That she was getting used to his absence frightened her.  
  
Alec and Alex. For all her father’s genius, he certainly lacked creativity.    
  
Dazedly, she found herself outside of Jaal’s room, dressed – for once – in a shirt and trousers, rather than her typical softsuit. She’d not gathered herself at all, damp hair hanging brushed but loose down her back, face bare and open, hands ungloved. The tattoo she had gotten when she was younger peeked out at her, a bushel of lavender disappearing into her sleeve.  
  
Lavender had been her favourite flower. She hoped somebody would grow it here, just so she could smell it again.  
  
Ryder knocked once upon the door. If he wanted privacy, she was happy to give it to him; she knew that everyone mourned in their own way. But she worried for him. When she had first heard of humanity’s colonists disappearing, she’d panicked; they were her people, vanishing without a trace. And most of them had never come home. She still remembered the ache of that particular kind of heartbreak.  
  
That’s when she decided to come to Andromeda. The Milky Way was host to too much violence, too much hurt. Andromeda, she found, was no better.  
  
His door opened.  
  
“Ryder,” greeted Jaal. “I thought you might check up on me. I can assure you, I am fine.”  
  
His tone was a bit off, voice rough as if he’d been crying. She sighed; he was not fine. He was hurt, despairing, afraid. There was nothing _fine_ about what they had seen.  
  
Jaal was knelt on the floor, tinkering with what looked like a gun. Ryder stepped in, and when the door hissed closed behind her, sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him. She had Jaal hadn’t spoken much, and what conversation they had was mostly educational; he asked her about ‘human cowls’, and she explained that it was called hair, and that everyone’s was different. Then he had asked her about the function of it, and their ‘straight legs’, and about her biotics. Their discussions had never been personal.  
  
“I don’t know if I would be,” she said, honestly. “If you want to talk about it…”  
  
He nodded, and put his project down. She thought he looked much smaller, curled over himself as he was; it looked almost as if he was trying to shrink himself.  
  
“Tell me, Ryder. Has humanity known tragedy?”  
  
Over, and over, and over. That was something they and the Angara had in common. What they did not have in common, however, was that almost all of the tragedy humanity had befallen was by the hands of itself. The most abhorrent crimes against humans were committed by humans; the terrible irony of her people.  
  
“We have.” That was all she said, wringing her hands, eyes downcast.  
  
That in and of itself answered the unspoken question he had asked. “Then you know the hurt of watching your own desolation.”  
  
There was immeasurable anguish within his eyes, and a kind of longing that made her heart twist in empathetic pain. A longing for peace, a longing for the cease of suffering, the longing to unsee what had been seen.  
  
“How many of them have I killed, Ryder? How many were once my brothers?” said Jaal, voice shaky. “It pains me that we will never know. I would prefer death a million times over, than to be turned into one of those _creatures_ .”    
  
There was nothing she could say to that, not truly. What words could she possibly offer?  
  
Instead, she scooted forwards, and wrapped her arms around him. She had seen him embrace the Moshae, and a hug was always what managed to calm her brother down when he was upset. Touching wasn’t particularly her thing – she loved her space. But an occasional hug was within her comforts.  
  
And well within Jaal’s, apparently. His arms flew around her with no hesitation, and despite the awkward angle, he held her tightly, like she was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Ryder could feel the static surrounding him at this proximity, making the fine hair on her arms prickle up. He smelled like smoke, and gun oil, and something distinct but unrecognisable. Perhaps an unfamiliar plant?  
  
It was far from unpleasant.  
  
She felt remarkably small against him. Even seated, he towered above her, and she suspected he was two of her wide, but his hold wasn’t stifling. Firm, but soft, and comforting in a profound way she hadn’t expected.  
  
His skin was warm.  
  
“Thank you, Ryder.”  
  
It was with evident hesitation that he pulled away, and when he did, there were tears in his eyes. But he was smiling.  
  
“I have a good shoulder, Jaal. I’m always here for you.”  
  
That sentiment alone made him beam. “For all you are stoic, Ryder, you are deceptively kind. Splendid of heart.”  
  
His words made her stomach do a flip-thing she utterly refused to acknowledge.  
  
She smiled back.  


* * *

 

When he had first met the Pathfinder, the word ‘ _beautiful’_ did not occur to him, nor the word ‘ _kind_ ’. And yet, somehow, these were both things he had grown to associate with her in such a small amount of time. Jaal knew Ryder was quite splendid by human standards; he’d caught Peebee and Liam both giving her a certain doughy look, but he’d never seen her return it.  
  
Liam spoke highly of Ryder. He respected her as a leader and as an individual, which he had made very clear to Jaal; ‘ _She’s good people,_ ’ he had said. ‘ _There’s a lot on her, right now. She’s pretty remarkable_ .’  
  
And she _was_ remarkable. She was a force in battle, a blur of bullets and blue, and she was a capable Pathfinder, unerringly professional and firm, yet always fair.  
  
It was only then Jaal truly understood the true extent, though. She _was remarkable_ , having just gone to lengths nobody could expect of her to save his mentor, and a respected member of his people. She was bruised, and tired, but she had come to ensure he was holding up. She was there, sitting in a way Jaal suspected would be entirely impossible for an angara, dressed in ordinary clothing, with her hair out, and no semblance of ‘The Pathfinder’ on her face.  
  
Just Ryder.  
  
He’d found her strength beautiful, just as he’d found the way she moved on field beautiful; it was impossible not to. And he’d always admired the way she carried herself, even only a few months ago when she – a completely unwelcome and distrusted outside – had landed on Aya.  
  
It was then, though, confronted with the rawness of her humanity that it occurred to him that _she_ was beautiful.  
  
And then she had wrapped her arms around him, and every worry in Jaal’s mind turned momentarily into nothing. All he felt was her tiny arms, hands struggling to meet behind his back, and the tickle of her hair against his chin. She felt so small pressed against him that he forgot how dangerous she was, but only for a second. He could still feel her biotics suspended around her, threatening to break loose at any time.  
  
He wondered if she ever lost control, and thought that it would be a deeply frightening thing, if she did.  
  
For all her embrace set Jaal aback, the shy, complete smile she offered him completely disarmed him.  
  
“I – thank you,” she said, voice quieter than he was used to. “That means a lot.”  
  
His grief was forgotten for the moment. He knew, subconsciously, that when she left, it would flood him once again, but she provided a remarkably good distraction. For now, he could pretend he didn’t see the corruption of his people, that he didn’t watch the face of his kin warp and distort and _crack_ until it was that of his most hated enemy.  
  
Jaal remembered how Ryder had put a comforting hand on his shoulder as he doubled over and wept, how even then she had provided an anchor for him to cling to.  
  
She truly was kind.  
  
“You didn’t need to do what you did, Ryder,” he said, finally. She gave him a curious look. “What you have done for us – that is what truly means a lot. And that you did it out of kindness, and empathy, means more.”  
  
What was it that Liam had said? ‘ _She’s good people_ ’.  
  
“You don’t have to call me that, you know?”  
  
This puzzled him. “What?”  
  
The Pathfinder reddened. “You don’t have to call me Ryder, if you don’t want.”  
  
That was – _what_ ?  
  
“What else would I call you, if not your name?”  
  
She chuckled, and Jaal only grew more confused. Everybody called her Ryder; Liam, Cora, Kallo, Gill, Vetra, Suvi, Peebee. And Drack just called her ‘ _kid_ ’. What else could she possibly be called?  
  
“Ryder is my surname,” she said. “My family name, you know? Like Cora’s is Harper, and Liam’s is Kosta.”  
  
And suddenly, the ‘ - _A. Ryder_ ’ at the end of each email she sent made sense.  
  
And suddenly, Jaal _burned_ with a need to know.  
“Then… what is your given name?”  
  
“Anastasia.”  
  
Anastasia. _Anna-stage-ah_ . He played it over and over in his head, repeating it once aloud. The syllables didn’t roll off the tongue quite so easily, but he still adored the sound of it, even if he did get it a little bit wrong. He would make it his mission to refer to her by name at every opportunity he could; Ryder was inadequate. She was Anastasia.  
  
It was a powerful name, and delicate in the same breath. Just like her.  
  
“Beautiful; it suits you,” he said, and she turned a rosy shade of red. It was endearing. “May I ask what it means?”  
  
If it meant anything. He wasn’t sure if humans were as sentimental in their naming as the angara were.  
  
She shifted, an look that was somewhere between sheepish and just _sad_ on her face. A look that suggested a much longer story. “It means _resurrection_ . One who will be reborn.”  
  
Incredible. And so very fitting.  
  
“You have a brother, do you not?”  
  
Anastasia flinched as soon as he said the word, and immediately he wished he hadn’t asked. He had heard some about her family; he knew that her father was the previous Pathfinder, and that something had happened, and now it was her. He didn’t know what, or if he was still alive; only that his name was Alec. And Liam had mentioned a brother – had referred to him in present tems, ‘ _has_ a brother’, not ‘ _had_ a brother’. But it still appeared to have stung.  
  
“I apologise if I –”    
  
She interrupted his apology with a wave of her hand, even offering him a small smile. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s just… he’s, uh, at the Nexus. There was an issue with his cryostasis, and they’re just trying to sort it out.”  
  
“So he’s alive?”  
  
Anastasia nodded, but wrung her hands in a way that indicated she was nervous. The only tic he had picked up, at least from her. “Yeah, he is. Just sleeping.”  
  
Even through her grave tone, Jaal sensed a strong fondness. He hoped his brother was like her; they needed more good people.  
  
“His name is Alexander,” she said. Her smile was more open now, a dimple appearing in one of her cheeks. “It means ‘ _defender_ ’. Protector of men.”  
  
That made Jaal smile. He wouldn’t pry – not now, while emotions were raw, and when she had only just begun to open up. But he filed it away for later; he wanted to know more. Family was revered amongst his people, and he loved his own family dearly. If the tenderness in her expression was any indication, so did she.  
  
“Your parents did well,” said Jaal, with a quirk of his lips. “They’re both lovely names. Strong names. Humans are good at naming other humans – but, apparently, not planets.”  
  
Anastasia blushed, and chuckled. That conversation had been the first point of familiarity between them, the first time he had seen her without that stoic expression he grew to know well. As it turned out, her laugh was quite lovely, and Jaal found himself growing very fond of her smile.  
  
“Apparently not,” she said with a snort. “Anastasia and Alexander from _Planet Dirt_ .”  
  
Jaal laughed too. How easily she had dispelled his grief – she had torn him out of his mourning, and made him _laugh_ .  
  
There was a growing feeling working its way into his chest, that Jaal elected to ignore until further notice.  
  
_She was remarkable_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading as always! I love reading feedback, so feel free to leave some down below xoxo


	3. congeniality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anastasia shares a conversation with her brother, and comes to terms with what she has lost. Then she shares one with Jaal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bad this one's sad too, I just couldn't help myself  
> I'll make the next one more upbeat, I promise x
> 
> I wanted to explore Anastasia a little more in regards to the losses she's suffered and how she's dealing with them; I feel like ingame that loss is just kind of brushed over, especially just after it's happened, so I developed my own little HC about it.  
> Jaal is a cuddly space squid and we luv him

The Initiative was finally _growing_. People were waking up, the Nexus was thriving with life and laughter, and there were outposts on Voeld and Eos, and soon Kadara. Anastasia’s chest swelled with pride – she was _doing it_.   
  
Maybe her father had made the right choice after all.   
  
The Nexus was a bittersweet place for her, despite it all. It was a beautiful place, filled with hopeful faces where not too long ago it was quiet, barely supporting life. She knew that her brother would love it, when he finally woke up; _not too long now,_ Harry had said to her. Alexander looked so vulnerable in his sleep, so _different_. She didn’t like it.   
  
He looked too small.   
  
Anastasia grew increasingly used to his absence, and that frightened her. They had always been a pair, even as they grew apart in age – he dedicated himself to the pursuit of science, and she began following in her father’s footsteps. The prints he left behind were entirely too big for her to fill, but she got the hang of it eventually; she learned how to use a gun, how to use her biotics, and how to move in the field. And then she learned to lead.   
  
Gradually, the prints he left grew smaller; easier to match. Now they didn’t exist. She was the one making tracks.   
  
She missed him. Alec had always been a somewhat distant father, but he had treated them well; when Alexander had told him that he wanted to work with the scientists instead of the soldiers, their father had smiled a smile softer than she had ever seen on him. ‘ _You take after your mother._ ’   
  
Alex looked just like him, but he always had taken after Ellen. They both got their father’s brown eyes, and his olive skin. The only trait they truly shared with their mother was their blonde hair.   
  
Which was why Anastasia’s still hung long down her back, pulled into a plait that reached the middle of her spine and was completely inconvenient.   
  
“Ryder,” greeted Harry. He stood next to her brother’s prone body. “SAM has managed to secure a connection with your brother. He’s made contact.”   
  
Not like hers. Not quite.   
  
“So I can communicate with him?”   
  
SAM chimed in. “Though in a coma, Alexander’s mental processes remain intact.”   
  
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. “So he’s alright.”   
  
“You can ask him yourself. A moment while I establish a link with his implant.”   
  
That moment seemed to stretch a lifetime; if she could speak to him, she could tell him what was happening, about Prodromos and Taerve Uni, and –   
  
_Their father_. Anastasia’s stomach sank.   
  
“Proceed.”   
  
She didn’t quite know how.   
  
“Alex? You in there?”   
  
His eyes were darting beneath his eyelids, and something in his face changed – it was imperceptible, but there was recognition in his expression, in the twitch of his eyebrow and the quirk of his lips. It made her heart ache a lot more than she thought it would.  
  
“Anastasia?” his voice rang out, but it wasn’t from him; he was communicating through SAM. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere. “I don’t understand – what’s happening?”   
  
She brushed the hair off his forehead. It was growing longer than he liked it. “You’re on the Hyperion. Your stasis pod malfunctioned, so they’re keeping you in a medically induced coma. They say you’re gonna be okay though.”   
  
There was a moment of silence; it would be a difficult thing to process. “Actually? How are we talking? SAM?”   
  
Anastasia chuckled. “Yeah, SAM. You’re safe as houses, don’t stress. I miss you.”   
  
“You would, wouldn’t you?”   
  
Even in a coma, he was an ass. Truly a Ryder, right down to his bones.   
  
His tone changed. “How long have I been out, Sass?”   
  
_Sass_. She had always _hated_ that nickname, ever since Alex began calling her it when they were kids. At first, he had only done it to stir her up; he loved the reactions, and loved watching her get in trouble for hitting him. As they grew older, though, it just became habit.   
  
Anastasia winced. “About 6 months.”   
  
Another silence. “I mean… what’s 6 months to 600 years, right? How’s dad?”   
  
_Fuck_. What could she even say to that? That he died? It would break Alexander’s heart, and do god-knows-what to his vitals. But she couldn’t bear to lie to him. Not about something like that.   
  
“He’s … he’s not around anymore, Alex. He died during first contact.”   
  
‘He’s – _what_?” Instantly, she regretted her decision. But she knew it was for the best, in the long run. Or, at least, she _hoped_. “He can’t be, I mean … he was always so invincible.”   
  
She was silent. Turned out she’d broken her own heart too.  
  
Alex spoke again. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”   
  
Tears threatened to spill, so Anastasia squeezed her eyes shut and laid her head down on his shoulder. If she started crying now, she feared she would never stop.   
  
“None of us did,” she said, willing her quiet voice not to shake.   
  
“Did we ever find home?”   
  
That, at least, was good news. She gripped his hand; she knew he couldn’t feel it – it was more a comfort for herself. “We did. The Golden Words didn’t exactly pan out as planned, but we’ve settled two of them, soon to be three. There’s – well, the planets are changing. For the better. It won’t be long until we’ve found our forever home, and then we can plant all those trees, right?”   
  
Alexander had always talked about planting his own forest, scattering seeds around wherever he chose to settle. ‘ _I know I’ll never see it_ ,’ he’d said, with a smile, ‘ _but I’ll always live with the knowledge that I’ve created something great_ ’.   
  
“Right, yeah. Is Cora the Pathfinder now, then?”   
  
She squeezed his hand. “Not exactly. Dad gave the position to me, in the end.”   
  
Her brother’s lips twitched into what was almost a smile. “I’m glad. No wonder we’ve found home.”   
  
That made Anastasia smile too.   
  
“We should let him rest, Ryder,” said Harry, laying a hand on her shoulder. “His vitals are beginning to spike.”   
  
SAM withdrew, and his expression went blank. The hole of his loss left her feeling hollow, but Anastasia managed to return to the Tempest with her pride and professionality intact, only letting them slip when the doors to her quarters whizzed shut.   
  
And then she wept. For her father, for her brother, for her mother, and for all the friends she had left behind; they would all be dead now, too. She shed every tear she had held back, until her stomach hurt and she was short of breath, and until her face in the mirror was red and wet and her chest was full of relief that it ached.     
  
For now, she just wanted – _needed_ – to be human. She needed to feel the hurt she had denied herself.  
  
‘ _He was always so invincible’_.   
  
She could go back to being the Pathfinder tomorrow.  
  


* * *

  
Jaal hadn’t seen her all day. He typically reserved himself to the ship when they docked at the Nexus – his mistrust of the Milky Way people had just about dissipated with how much time he’d spent with the Tempest crew, but to be the  _ only angara  _ on a station full of aliens was still a little much for him. He knew that Anastasia liked to spend time on the human Ark, but she rarely spent a whole day out. She’d expressed a love of the Nexus to him, a love of seeing her work in action, but he suspected that the reminder that _ all of those people _ relied on her was overwhelming.

  
Usually, she’d check in at least once a day, just to ensure he was ‘holding up’. Another human colloquialism he didn’t quite understand.    
  
Today, though, he hadn’t seen her. Jaal didn’t want to admit that he was worried, but each hour that passed devoid of any sight of her sent a pang of anxiety to his stomach.   
  
It wouldn’t be pathetic to ask SAM, would it?   
  
Jaal knew it most certainly _would_ , but he didn’t much care.   
  
Since their talk after the rescue of the Moshae, Jaal and Anastasia had grown somewhat closer. Not in a conventional way – they’d not had a talk like that since, and it had been at least a month. But things were far more amicable now; they shared friendly looks that sometimes became smiles, and chatted on the battlefield and in the Nomad with none of the awkward tension that had once existed between them.   
  
He tried to ignore the funny lurch his stomach did every time she smiled, or laughed, or wore her hair down, or stuck out her tongue in that peculiar but endearing display of concentration that was so distinctly human, or … when she was _around_ , really.   
  
“SAM, is Ryder still on the Nexus?”   
  
It took a moment for the AI to respond, his tinny voice ringing throughout Jaal’s small room. “No. The Pathfinder has been aboard the Tempest for 4 hours; she is in her quarters.”   
  
That was unlike her.  
  
“Is she alright?”  
  
Another small silence. Jaal wondered what, exactly, the AI was permitted to divulge. “Her vitals suggest distress.”   
  
She was upset. After they had rescued the Moshae, Anastasia had come to comfort him – she knew he was hurting, and wanted to do what she could to alleviate the pain. Jaal was determined to do the same for her as she did for him, even if he didn’t know why. She didn’t need to tell him; he just wanted to be there, because she had been there for him.   
  
It was only fair.   
  
That was _definitely_ the only reason.   
  
If she would even let him. Jaal knew Anastasia was a private person, even by human standards – she and Liam were close, he knew, but even he didn’t seem to know too much about how she was feeling, or her history. Only pieces. He knew she and Peebee were once close, as well; ‘ _a thing_ ’, according to Liam. Whatever that meant.   
  
Strangely enough, a knot had worked its way into his stomach. Nervousness? _It couldn’t be_.   
  
The doors of the Pathfinder’s quarters whizzed open before he had a chance to knock – SAM, he assumed, had warned her of his approach. The woman in question sat on her bed with her back towards him, looking out into the sky of the Nexus. She didn’t acknowledge his entry.   
  
“Are you alright?”   
  
The question seemed silly to him, now. She was a young woman – only 22, so much younger than he had initially thought – and yet she had the fates of hundreds of thousands resting upon her. _Alright_ didn’t even make its way into the equation; she had no choice.   
  
That made Jaal really, really sad.   
  
“Yeah,” she said. Her voice sounded raw. “I’m okay. Just thinking.”   
  
“SAM told me you were distressed.”   
  
Anastasia laughed now, yet somehow, it was a grave laugh. One that lacked any real humor. “Of course he did. It’s just – been a long day, I suppose.”   
  
She had turned to him then, and Jaal could see the evidence of previously shed tears upon her face. A long day indeed; had she finally cracked beneath the stress? She seemed so strong, so immovable.   
  
He sat beside her, but a good distance away. He also knew that she liked her space.  
  
“Would you care to talk about it?” he asked, folding his hands in his lap. “I hear I’m a good listener.”   
  
Stars, she looked so _lost_ , just staring out her window. The colours of the sky played off her dark eyes; Jaal loved her eyes. So deep, so full and warm, yet so capable of being cold.   
  
Anastasia closed her eyes, and let out a deep breath. Her hands wrung around one another in her lap, and Jaal had to press down the urge to encapsulate them in his own. He wanted to hold her, to tell her that it would all be alright, to ground her – but she was not him. She was Anastasia Ryder, and he knew she didn’t love hugging, didn’t love people being in her space. There was so much sitting on her shoulders. ‘ _It will be alright_ ’ would simply not suffice.   
  
“I went to see my brother today.”   
  
Ah. He sensed a direction.   
  
“SAM linked into his implant and let me speak to him,” she continued. Her voice was quiet, and yet, so unfailingly strong. “I guess it made me remember how much I miss him.”   
  
“You are close?”   
  
She looked at him now, with a small, sad smile. “We are. Alex and I are twins; for a lot of our lives, we’ve only had each other. It sometimes feels like I don’t even have him anymore, you know?”   
  
Twins existed within the angara, as well. He was not gifted with a twin, but many of his brothers and sisters were.    
  
Jaal nodded, and – reluctantly – placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch away like he thought she would.   
  
“You do, though,” he said. “He’s just sleeping.”   
  
That was what she had said to him when he’d first learned of Alexander, and she’d said it with such a bittersweet smile, not unlike the one on her face as they spoke.   
  
Anastasia chuckled. “Just sleeping. Right.”   
  
They fell into a silence that seemed to stretch on, but not in an unpleasant way. Just companionable, the two of them somehow sitting a little closer than they had been, both looking out into the sky. Jaal knew it was artificial, but it didn’t lack beauty.   
  
“I had to tell him about dad.”   
  
Oh, _no_. Liam had told him about Alec, and how he had met his end during their first contact with the Kett. That it was sudden, and unexpected – as was the decision to make Anastasia Pathfinder. It was meant to be Cora. That explained the animosity. Jaal thought it was pathetic; Anastasia fit the role as if she was born for it.   
  
She was, if he thought about it. She just didn’t know it.   
  
He could find no other words. “I’m so sorry.”   
  
“It kind of occured to me that I haven’t really let myself feel it, you know?” said Anastasia, meeting his eyes. There was a special kind of sadness in her eyes, a sadness he didn’t recognise. “I just soldiered on through the shock and tried not to think about it,  and I’ve been so focused on being Pathfinder that I –”   
  
She slumped, and it was the first time he had ever seen her posture anything but straight and proud. “ – I don’t know. Alex said that he always seemed so invincible. Maybe a part of me thought he was coming back.”   
  
Jaal didn’t see the Pathfinder. He didn’t see Ryder, all schooled severity and measured looks, or even the devastating Anastasia with her crooked smiles and her charming laugh.    
  
All he saw was someone too young who had lost too much.   
  
He scooted toward her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. It wasn’t a hug, not quite – more a hold. She didn’t pull away; she just leaned her head into his shoulder, eyes still cast out at that artificial, blue sky.   
  
“I think,” he began, slowly, “that you, for all you’ve had taken from you, are a remarkable person. You glow with a strength I’ve not seen before, and humanity should be proud to have you.”   
  
Anastasia blinked, taken aback, and proceeded to turn a deep shade of red.   
  
Before she could deny it, or in away respond, he squeezed her shoulder and continued. “I mean it. I don’t doubt that your father was a great man, or that your brother is wonderful. But you, Anastasia, are one of a kind.”   
  
Somehow, she grew redder.   
  
“Thank you, Jaal,” said Anastasia, finally. There was an odd inflection to her voice; one she didn’t recognise. “You don’t understand how much that means to me. Truly.”   
  
He smiled at her, and she when she smiled back, something stirred within his chest. He would think about that later.   
  
“You’re – I really appreciate you, y’know?” she admitted. “You didn’t have to stay with us, but you did. You didn’t have to trust me, but you chose to. And you didn’t have to do this; you’re just one surprise after another.”  
  
Those things surprised him, too. But what surprised him most was how _incredibly fond_ he was growing of this strange little force of nature.  
  
“You have shown me great kindness, Pathfinder. It is only fair that I do the same.”   
  
She smiled that lovely smile once again. “What’s your family like, Jaal?”   
  
Jaal told her, and revelled in every moment in which her face was turned towards him, eyes wide with bewilderment as he told her of his many mothers, and all his brothers and sisters. The smile she wore was warm, and kind – but there was a little sadness in there as well, perhaps a memory of the little family she herself had left.   
  
It wasn’t until SAM notified them of the crew gathering for dinner that Jaal noticed his arm had remained around her, and her head upon his shoulder. The closeness had become familiar.   
  
He wasn’t sure what to think of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thank you so much for reading!! Feedback keeps me alive, feel free to leave some ;) x


	4. calamity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anastasia feels a lot of things. Anger, embarrassment, and the dreaded 'L-word'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a long one, soz hehe x
> 
> Writing Peebee was so much fun, and I thought I'd delve a little more into their past. I had a good time writing the dialogue in this chapter!  
> Anastasia is beginning to come to terms with her increasingly-apparent feelings for Jaal, and she's not liking it one bit. 
> 
> Btw, I barely edit, so if there are any spelling mistakes or anything please let me know! 
> 
> Enjoy! x

Anastasia went stone-still, hand hovering above the rifle between her shoulders. She shot Jaal a look, and gestured for him to crouch down; she had seen something, or SAM had alerted her of company. Whichever it was, it sent the whole team dead silent, even Peebee mirroring the Pathfinder’s fixed posture.  
  
“Kett.”  
  
Jaal swore under his breath, ducking behind a remnant blast shield. Ryder lowered herself into a crouch, a fluid movement he found he appreciated probably more than he should have. She moved like water, so practiced, so measured; so unlike Peebee’s unchained energy. Cora had an odd way of moving in battle – like a dance rehearsed so often it became mechanical, muscle memory.  
  
There weren’t apt words to describe how Anastasia moved. The way she traversed the field was trained, smooth – she knew how to use her surroundings, and he found that the way she used her biotics in combat was oddly reminiscent of how he felt the field around her. She didn’t rely on them, and more often than not used them to suspend her combatants, or to disarm them. It was all very calculated, and never once had he seen her lose control.  
  
“How many?”  
  
Anastasia withdrew her rifle, and loaded a clip. “I’m not certain. At least a dozen.”  
  
Peebee snorted, drawing her own pistol. “Just a _few_ , then.”  
  
The Pathfinder shot her a glance, one the Asari countered with a toothy grin. Jaal wasn’t sure he liked Peebee; or perhaps that was just jealousy. He didn’t know the details, but he knew she and Ryder had once been involved. They hadn’t been for a while – not in the time he had been on the Tempest, he knew that. But for how long before that, he had no clue. He was curious as to what level that commitment reached; they were still friends, so it couldn’t have ended too bitterly.  
  
_Not the time_ for such thoughts.  
  
Finally, he heard what Anastasia did; the heavy rustle of several footsteps, and the hollow _clunk_ of kett bone armor. Their Asari counterpart was still standing in plain sight, pistol drawn but otherwise completely in the open.  
  
“Peebee, get down.”  
  
That was her command voice. There was no room for argument in her tone, nor her stony expression; but naturally, Peebee found some.  
  
“I’m fine, _Ryder,_ ” she said, waving her gun about. The sounds were drawing closer. “What, you worried about lil old me?”  
  
She scowled. “That was an order. You’re vulnerable; _get down_ .”    
  
Peebee shrugged, and Jaal could see the Pathfinder’s patience visibly fray. “I do better out in the open, babe. I like having room to move.”  
  
Anastasia opened her mouth to bite back, but her words were cut off by a volley of bullets shooting towards them from the trees. She cursed loudly, and Jaal heard the biotic barrier she threw up before he saw it – the energy had a distinct noise, but one he couldn’t describe. A _warping_.  
  
She leapt from her cover towards Peebee, knocking the Asari to the ground with a heavy thud and using the momentum to roll both of their bodies towards a blast shield. Initially, it sent a strange pang to Jaal’s stomach – not the pleasant kind, either. But it dissipated into something else when he caught a glimpse of the unbridled _anger_ in her face.  
  
It was a completely unfamiliar expression on her. Jaal wasn’t sure he liked it.  
  
Peebee scrambled until her back was against the shields, for once speechless. She simply looked at Anastasia wide-eyed, mouth agape and brows knitted. She knelt beside her, firing a few shots towards the incoming Kett before retreating back behind their cover, levelling the Asari with an utterly _glacial_ look.    
  
“When I say get down,” she said through grit teeth, “That means _get the fuck down_ .”  
  
She didn’t give Peebee an opportunity to reply. The kett had closed in on them, too close for Jaal to use his sniper – the kett were painful like that. At a distance, they were able to pick off one-by-one. But up close, they posed a more dire threat; they were violent, and lacked any fear. They would rip a man limb from limb if he didn’t fight back.  
  
Anastasia opened fire, a shield materialising around her as she moved. She used an assault rifle, an automatic that looked as though it would be difficult to handle – she, of course, did it with ease. As though she’d been using it for years. Jaal had to resort to his pistol, a semi-automatic with a decent punch that she had gifted him; a Milky Way weapon. His rifle still felt more familiar in his hands, but the pistol was passable. It did the job.  
  
“Anointed, 6 o’clock.”  
  
Jaal dropped low into his cover. The kett’s gun whirred into life, but before a single bullet left it, it was hit by a ball of whirling energy. “Its shields are down. All yours.”  
  
He emptied half a clip into its head, and it dropped. He thumbed his thanks to Ryder, who nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
The kett were falling, but not nearly quickly enough. They’d not prepared for such an assault; Jaal was beginning to run low on ammunition, and he noticed Anastasia using a lot more of her biotics, so he assumed she was as well. Peebee looked uncharacteristically stressed, shooting biotic charges at anything that got too close, and trying to pick off stragglers with headshots – saving ammo.  
  
Surely, this was not the way they would go.  
  
Jaal pulled the trigger, and his pistol clicked. Empty – _skutt_ .  
  
“I’m out of ammunition,” he said through the comms. “I have my rifle, but I need more range.”  
  
Anastasia took out the kett surrounding him. “Get to higher ground. I’ll cover you.”  
  
Jaal fled from cover, moving quickly between remnant pillars and blast shields, the sound of conflict so close in his wake. Once or twice he felt a bullet ricochet off his shields, but they were strays – a well aimed, purposeful bullet would have made it through; a deeply unsettling thought, but he trusted her. He knew she was handling it.  
  
He used the jump jet they had issued him to scale a pillar with a dip at the top, behind which he could take cover. It was a good vantage point – he could see everything happening below him.  
  
Including Anastasia, _radiating_ with energy. She was aglow, surrounded by a halo of blue, _writhing_ and warping the space around her. She had forgone her rifle, discarded beside her on the ground; out of ammo? He had feared that eventuality.  
  
Jaal inhaled a deep breath, steadied his rifle, and took the shot – right between the eyes. The kett aiming its gun at their Pathfinder fell. And another, and after that, another.  
  
He exhaled; he’d had plenty of practice shooting kett. He never missed a shot.  
  
Below, Ryder was a whirlwind – an ever-moving field of destructive power. She flung her arms out, and from them erupted a volley of energy, knocking everything caught within it backwards, and Peebee stood beside her, offering her own biotic assistance.

They worked well together. That made Jaal a little mad, though he would rather die than admit it.  
  
There were only four left. Three he dropped in moments – three shots, one after another, to the head. The last, Anastasia suspended in the air, and promptly _slammed_ down with crushing force. He’d never seen such a violent display; not from her, at least. It was … he wasn’t sure. Confronting. And inspiring.  
  
“Well done,” he said, hopping down from his perch. The jets they had brought from the Milky Way had their uses; they’d be useful to his people. “That was close.”  
  
The Pathfinder nodded. She hadn’t sagged at all – her posture was still very much proud, head held high and shoulders squared – but there was a tiredness to her, one that Jaal recognised. “It was. Too close.”  
  
“Hey, we made it out, didn’t we?”  
  
Jaal felt Anastasia’s anger before he heard it – it radiated from her in waves. She hadn’t forgotten Peebee’s carelessness.  
  
“ _You_ almost didn’t,” she snapped. “What were you thinking?”  
  
Peebee stammered. “Ryder – ”  
  
She was cut off. “On the field, I am _the Pathfinder_. I may be your friend, but I am also your commanding officer; if I give you an order, you _follow_ _it_.”    
The asari, for the first time Jaal had ever seen, was silent. Jaal was taken aback – he knew she was firm, but he had never seen this anger. But in there, he recognised fear; she was angry because she had almost lost a friend, and a teammate. And if she had, as the commanding officer, that death would’ve been on her shoulders.  
  
“SAM, signal the Tempest for extraction,” said Anastasia, an edge to her tone. “I’m sick of this fucking planet.”

* * *

 

“I’m sorry.”  
  
She hadn’t even noticed Peebee standing in her doorway, so absorbed in the email draft in front of her. The asari looked uncharacteristically guilty – she had her hands folded before her, and her eyes were cast down. She actually _was_.  
  
Anastasia felt bad for being surprised.  
  
She spun on her chair to face her, beckoning her permission for Peebee to enter. “Me too. I didn’t mean to get so angry, but –”  
  
“No, no,” she said, waving away Anastasia’s apology. “It was – it was fine. I was being stupid, and I didn’t listen to you. You had every right.”  
  
This was the most honestly she’d heard out of her, at least in a long time. Nothing was ever official between them – neither of them were looking for that. Just comfort. And afterwards, they had gone back to being friends like nothing had ever happened. It was easy, and simple, and that was what Anastasia liked about it. There was no messiness, no attachment where attachment wasn’t due.  
  
Attachment would be the death of her, honestly. She could already feel it, tugging at the threads, banging at her ribs to be free whenever he was near her, or praised her, or brushed against her or held her _just right_ – she didn’t like touching, didn’t love hugs, but his arms around her felt different. Felt okay.  
  
It was always the aliens. There was something wrong with her, surely.  
  
“Really, Peebee, it’s okay,” she said, offering her friend a genuine smile. “You’re right – you _were_ being stupid, but my fear wasn’t for my authority. It was for your life. I don’t want to see you put yourself in danger again.”  
  
Peebee grinned back. “You do that more now. You know that?”  
  
“What?”  
  
The asari put her hands on her hips, the subject completely derailed. She’d always been good at that; taking one conversation and turning it into something completely different. Anastasia never could decide if it was a trait she liked, or one she absolutely hated.  
  
“You _smile,_ ” said Peebee, raising her eyebrows in scandal. “I’d seen it, like, _twice_ before. Even when we were, y’know…”  
  
She made an obscene gesture, and Anastasia groaned, turning away from her. “Gross.”  
  
The other woman just chuckled, a hearty, genuine laugh. She could remember why she’d liked Peebee – she was easy to be around, and easy to be without. The time they’d spent together was fun, but she hadn’t found herself missing her when she was absent; it was a happy medium. Fun without all the strings. Just letting loose.  
  
Not too long ago, she would’ve considered going back to it. She’d never had any romantic inclination towards her, and vice versa, but it was good for blowing off steam. But now … well, things were different.    
  
“Seriously though, what’s got you so happy all of a sudden?”    
  
Anastasia shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’m just getting used to all of this.”  
  
Peebee shook her head. “You don’t fool me, Ryder. I think you’re _in feelings._ ”  
  
Ridiculous. Absolutely outrageous, and unfathomable. And entirely, undeniably, certainly true. She only defense she could offer was indignant silence and a flushing face. Peebee beamed, slapping her leg as she exclaimed, as if she’d found treasure.  
  
“I’m right! You _are_ in _feelings_! Who’s the lucky alien?”  
  
It occurred to Anastasia that Peebee knew her entirely too well for her own comfort. “I am not ‘ _in feelings_ ’ with anything, nor am I _in love_ with anyone.”     
  
Peebee grimaced. “L-word. Gross.”  
  
And she was the same as she had always been. It was a comfort to know that some people, no matter how many horrors and misfortunes the galaxy threw at them, would forever remain children.  
  
“It’s Jaal, isn’t it?”  
  
Anastasia’s stomach leapt up into her ribcage, and she could feel her face flaming. She knew her _completely too well._  
  
“No.”  
  
Peebee grinned, and it was the most shit-eating, nefarious grin she had ever seen. “It is. I fucking _knew it_! He’s always giving you these big gooey squid eyes.”  
  
He was?  
  
Anastasia all but bulldozed Peebee out of her quarters, claiming that she had ‘ _lots of work to do_ ’; the real reason to her ejection was definitely not the fact that she felt as though her face was going to catch fire. It wasn’t like her to be so put off, and Peebee _knew_ it. She knew she’d hit the nail right on the head, because _the Pathfinder_ was blushing and stammering and _pushing her out of her quarters_.  
  
“If you say a word of this, to anyone,” whispered Anastasia, holding Peebee by the arm, “I _will airlock_ you.”  
  
Peebee only smiled, and moved her head to the side, revealing a stunned Jaal standing behind her. He was standing, mouth agape, looking at the scene unfolding before him. The Pathfinder, _physically extracting_ another crew member from her quarters, face red as a beet and huffing quiet, angry words. She looked positively nuts.   
  
The asari untangled herself from her iron grip, cackling as she made her way down the corridor and saying something too quiet for Anastasia to hear, leaving her and Jaal in a deeply awkward silence.  
  
Perhaps she would airlock herself.  
  
“Was I – uh, interrupting?”  
  
The look on Jaal’s face was dubious, and if she looked closely, she could see hurt. Or perhaps … jealousy? Did he think they were –  
  
_Oh no_.  
  
“ _No_! No, nothing like that,” she stumbled, too quickly to be in any way, shape, or form natural. “Not – no. I was just showing her out.”  
  
Jaal chuckled. “I could see that. Does that mean you are adverse to company, at present?”  
  
“You’re more than welcome to come in, if that’s what you’re asking?”  
  
He smiled. “It is.”  
  
Jaal took a seat on her bed without hesitation, making himself comfortable. It was curious – he seemed quite happy being in her space, in a way he wasn’t so much in the rest of the ship. She found she quite liked that; it was good for her crew too feel comfortable around her and in her quarters.  
  
That was the only reason, definitely.  
  
She look a seat in her wheelie chair, tucking her legs beneath her in a way that shouldn’t have been comfortable, but somehow was. Jaal was giving her an expectant look; he had such lovely eyes. So deep, and so alien. So emotive.  
  
So different to her own.  
  
“Did you need something?”  
  
He smiled. “Do I need a motive to visit my dear friend?”  
  
There was an odd inflection on the word ‘dear’, nearly an emphasis, but not so blatant. Or perhaps she was overthinking it. That was likely.  
  
“I suppose not,” she chuckled. “Sorry about that scene you stumbled upon. She was being an ass.”  
  
The laugh that left him surprised her in its body, in its volume. Jaal, apparently, found that _really_ funny. She quirked an eyebrow at him, retrieving her tea – still hot, thankfully – from where it sat on her desk. Tea; that was what she missed most from the Milky Way.  
  
_And mom._  
  
“I’m sorry, sorry,” he managed through breathless gasps for breath. It was really quite endearing, actually. “It’s just – she said the _same thing_ to me as she walked past. About you.”  
  
Anastasia blushed. “Ah. I see.”  
  
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re an ‘ _ass_ ’.”  
  
She laughed. “Weirdly enough, it is.”  
  
He beamed at her, and her stomach did an odd little flip that she didn’t at all appreciate. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and she absolutely hated it. Anastasia had never been a feelings person; she loved her brother, and her friends, and her crew. She had been in relationships here and there, but only one that lasted any substantial time. Otherwise, she only knew flings – she was good at that, keeping them at arms distance, figuratively. Arms distance was a comfortable place.  
  
This was comfortable in a different way; in a way she was entirely unaccustomed to. They were friends – _just friends_ , but with something beneath that, bubbling to the surface in dribs and drabs. The way her stomach knotted, and the way he made her smile – not just at him, but _in general_. His ‘gooey squid eyes’.  
  
She didn’t know what to do with any of it, and it scared her. And excited her. And made her want to jump out the airlock.  
  
She missed the sureness of being ‘just the Pathfinder’. It had seemed to go a little deeper than that, lately; she’d been allowing herself vulnerability. Something she hadn’t done in a long time.  
  
“May I ask you something?”  
  
Anastasia smiled. Ever-curious, was Jaal; if she let him ask her questions to his heart’s content, she suspected they’d be there for hours. It was a shame something always managed to come up. “Of course.”  
  
Jaal shifted, as if considering his wording. “You _feel_ deeply. I have seen it, in your anger at Peebee, in your sadness, in your empathy. And yet, you seem so reluctant to make it known – you are reserved, and private, which are not faults, but do you never struggle? To keep everything inside?”  
  
She blinked, taken aback. That was a loaded question, if she’d ever heard one.  
  
“It gets –” she began, wringing her hands. “ – I’m not sure. Sometimes it can be overwhelming, especially if you’re feeling anxiety, stress, or anger. Every human is different I think; Liam and Suvi are a lot more open than Cora and I. I think it’s a military thing.”  
  
“Is your family similar?”  
  
She liked that Jaal didn’t hesitate to ask about her family. Sure, sometimes it sent a painful pang to her chest, but it was better than everyone else walking on eggshells. As though if they mentioned her father she’d break. “They are – my father especially. Alex has always been a little less reserved than me, but he takes after my mom in a lot ways. She was always more open.”  
  
He nodded, seeming to mull that over for a moment. “I see. The angara are an open people, as I’m sure you’ve realised, but there are exceptions. Evfra is particularly private.”    
  
Anastasia laughed. “No kidding. I just thought he didn’t like me.”  
  
“No, he has a great deal of respect for you,” Jaal said with a chuckle. “That is simply how he speaks to his friends.”  
  
That was funny to her. Every species had outliers, she supposed. Social norms were only made to be broken.  
  
“You know,” he began again, giving her a different look this time. A peculiar look – _gooey squid eyes_. “Your emotions are beautiful; vibrant. When you express them freely, you are _radiant_. I wish more people could see it, because it is a sight to behold.”  
  
That turned Anastasia to jelly. She sat facing him, mouth agape and cheeks flushing, squirming under his appraising eyes. There was such raw honesty in his tone, and such pure, unabashed admiration. For just being … her.  
  
Fuck, maybe she was i _n feelings_.  
  
“I don’t – I,” she stammered, completely taken aback. “Thank you? I mean – thank you. You’re too kind, Jaal.”  
  
He grinned. “Not kind, Anastasia. Simply honest.”  
  
Her heart skipped a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You know the drill – feel free to leave feedback, I love hearing all of your thoughts! <3


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